Confessions of a Mary Sue
by SilentStep
Summary: All she wanted was an adventure, and maybe a chance to snog Legolas along the way. Middle Earth wasn't what she expected. This is just the diary of an ordinary girl who discovers that nobody speaks English in Gondor. Please read and review.


Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings and The Silmarillion belong to JRR Tolkien, may he rest in peace. The movie version belongs to Peter Jackson, long may he live. Inspirations were drawn from boz4PM's Don't Panic, Osheen Nevoy's Boromir's Return, Yvonne MacGrory's The Secret of the Ruby Ring, and every Mary Sue on the Pit of Voles, as is sometimes half-affectionately called. This character's diary, however, is indeed mine. Thank you very much and I hope you enjoy it.

**First Entry**

I swear, all I wanted was a bit of an adventure, maybe a chance to snog Legolas along the way. Okay, so I was _really_ hoping for a chance to snog Legolas along the way, and maybe have him swear his eternal undying love for me. And then obviously the gods of Middle-Earth (the Valor, or whatever they were called) were supposed to grant me immortality so that I could stay with him because we were obviously the best couple in all of Middle-Earthian history. Forget Aragorn and Arwen. Legolas is much hotter than that scruffy, dirty ranger anyway, and once I arrived in Middle-Earth, I was sure I'd be a hundred times prettier than someone like Liv Tyler. I could win my Leggy over with my fighting skills and my bravery, and maybe a strategically well-endured wound or two, necessitating his nursing me back to health. Of course I could carry the ring for Frodo, too. People with faerie blood are immune to it. That's how they'll know I have faerie blood, even though I never knew my parents, because they died in some tragic accident when I was very young and I had a really hard life in the orphanage until I got to Middle-Earth.

What wouldn't I give to see my mom and dad and little sister now. Mom would be yelling at me to do homework and Dad would be just sitting there watching TV and my sister would be in my room messing up all of my stuff and I swear, right now, I wouldn't mind. I would hug her and kiss her and go and do my homework without Mom telling me twice. Well, maybe twice. But not three times, for sure.

Uh-oh. I've got to go. I was supposed to have the fires laid long ago, but I was just so _tired._ I'm always tired here, and I mean more than I would be after staying up too late out with my friends or something. I think it's the food, really I do. These people have never heard of proper nutrition. I'm probably not getting enough of some vitamin or other. I'll be back once I've got the fires lit.

Whew, that was close. Prince Imrahil just rode in, and I would have been in big trouble if he'd been shown to his room on this cold and rainy night to find no fire waiting for him. I'm sure he's _used_ to being cold and wet, after all, being a soldier and all that. But here and now he's a guest in the Steward's house, and seeing as he's the Steward's brother-in-law, as well as a Prince... he's to be given every possible courtesy. Which just means more work for me. I swear, if I ever get home I'm going to be _really nice_ to the cleaning ladies, even that funny one with the glass eye. Maybe she's really some time-traveler from the future too, come back to our modern times with some crazy expectations of having adventures and being really special.

I'm lucky, I guess. I could have just died of starvation on the streets of Osgiliath. It was a huge shock to discover that they didn't speak English. What was this whole "Common Tongue" supposed to be, if not English? First Aid Classes saved me, though. There was this little kid who tried to go swimming in the river and went in too deep. I'm a pretty good swimmer, so I got him out, but he wasn't breathing, so I had to give him artificial recess- reccessiteration? Well, I can't spell it properly, but I can do it. So he was okay. Then his older brother came in and some people told him what happened, and so he took me to the castle-thing at the top of the seventh level. It didn't look like it did in the movie. They had no grass lawn, for one thing, and the statues of the kings were really different. So was Denethor. I expected him to be just plain evil, but... he wasn't. In fact he seemed like a pretty decent guy. He managed to communicate that he wanted to give me a reward (turns out it was his son I saved), but didn't understand when I tried to tell him "Legolas" or "elf." So finally I just asked for food, and they gave me a job as a servant.

Since then I've picked up a lot of the language, but I'm not fluent by a long shot. I tell people that I'd like to know where Legolas is and they think I'm crazy.

**Second Entry**

Everything is harder here. The cleaning that these people do is endless. But before they can even clean things, someone has to make it. I saw a blacksmith working on a sword, once, on an errand. Since I saw Legolas' actor do something like that in Pirates of the Caribbean, I would have thought it was really easy, but it wasn't. It took him weeks. I tried to pick it up and fence with it, but I just dropped it on my foot, nearly ruining the sword, and got in huge trouble. One of the other servants- I think her name was Sigyn- had to come and explain that I was just a halfwit. I would have been offended, but it made the smith stopped glaring at me, so I just did my best to look as half-witted as possible. Things like that seem to happen a lot. Like when I tried to ride a horse. I spent a nice long time in the Houses of Healing after that. Why couldn't they have just sent me to Rivendell? Elrond's ugly, of course, but Legolas would have been bound to stop by sooner or later. I _am_ destined to be his one true love, after all. Is a short visit when I'm languishing with a broken arm too much to ask, even if I do live a bit out of his way?

I think I've gotten stronger. I can wash things for longer without stopping, and that's a terribly pathetic way to measure one's strength but it's true. I always thought I was strong. I'd been in gym class. I passed the presidential fitness test or whatever. Then there are these Gondorians, who think nothing of running up all seven circles and then beating the crap out of every dusty rug in the Steward's house without pausing for breath. And that's just the servants: the actual soldiers do it in full armor while swinging aloft their aforementioned Giant Swords.

**Third Entry**

I saw Boromir trying to teach his younger brother- the one I saved- to fight today. Boromir's right about my age, and already they expect him to be fighting! Nevermind expect. He can. He's _good._ Faramir's making progress, too, even though he's so _little._ I wonder what would happen if I tried to teach my little sister something like that. She'd probably just get bored, throw the sword at me (presuming she could lift it) and wander off. It's weird, the way those brothers get along so well. Boromir just looks after Faramir, whether he's asked to or not, and doesn't seem to even get annoyed when Faramir just _has_ to tag along after him. Again, if it were my sister, I'd have been threatening to strangle her long ago.

I went and picked up the practice swords, when they were done. They were a lot lighter, which explained how little Fara had been able to hold his. So I was trying to act out The Princess Bride, complete with Westley and Inigo's banter, when I noticed Boromir watching me, looking rather amused. I turned red, dropped the sword, and commenced hopping around the courtyard on one foot reciting every swear word I knew in English and the few Westron ones that I had picked up from Sigyn when she had dropped and broken a chamber pot. Boromir was laughing his head off, but he stopped (or at least made a valiant effort to) when he saw that I was near tears. He came over and asked- through extensive use of sign language- if I wanted to learn to use a sword. I nodded. I remembered Ayowin's line in the second movie about those who didn't have swords still dying on them. Of course, presumably by the time any orks got to Gondor, I'd be with my Legolas on those ships with all the spooky green dead guys. But then I reflected that impressing Elf-boy with my fighting skills probably entailed knowing how to fight.

So Boromir tried to teach me. He was patient, I'll give him that, and he made exaggeratedly delighted noises that I assumed meant "good job" every so often. Clearly he thought, along with the rest of the household, that I didn't have the brains God gave a mule. Hah. I'd like to see any of them pass Calculus, or Chemistry. Then we'd see who's the halfwit here! (...well, not that I was exactly acing any of them, per se, but _still.)_ Boromir's a lot nicer than he was in the movie. I guess he just turns evil later on when he's older. I always thought he'd be really sexist, too, like he is in all the fanfics- whenever Aragorn's sister or someone turns up, he starts ranting about how women have no place fighting, and are no good at it anyway, and then she kicks his ass and he stomps off like a baby. And as much as I would just love to convince myself that I am the one responsible for convincing him that Women Can Be Just As Good As Men, my astounding show of feminine sword-prowess today did nothing other than disgrace my entire gender. I could tell that I was nowhere near even Faramir's level. Maybe Faramir's just a prodigy?

**Fourth Entry**

Ow. Sore. No long diary entry today, sorry. Geez, it was just a short sword-fighting lesson, with practice swords to boot, and most of the time was spent getting me to just hold it properly... forget anything I said yesterday about my having gotten stronger. I hurt in muscles that I would have sworn I didn't even have.

Hey diary. I know I said earlier that I wouldn't be writing any more today, but I'm just really upset and I don't know enough Westron to talk to anyone else. Being so sore made me really slow at all of my chores. One of the higher-up servants yelled at me when I tripped and spilled the washing-basket all over the hallway, I snapped back at her to leave me alone, and she hit me. She actually _hit_ me. Slapped me right across the face! I didn't believe it. I just stared numbly at her for a minute. I wanted to just fly at her and attack her, but I felt too sore and tired to stick up for myself, so I just collapsed into tears. Sigyn tried to tell that bully that I was just a halfwit and couldn't understand. I know that by saying it she was sticking up for me, but hearing it just made me cry all the harder. I hate this stupid city. I hate this stupid world. Stupid Peter Jackson. Stupid author, whatever his name was. Stupid language, stupid other servants, stupid _me._ Why did I ever think that I could belong here? I always thought that I would get here and everything would be so wonderful; I just _knew_ that I would fit in like I was always meant to. Why? I guess it makes me every bit as half-witted as they all think I am. Legolas had better show up soon and make this all worthwhile. _He_ is going to see my inner worth. Just you wait. I'll show them all. When I'm an Elf Princess, I'm going to come back here and set everyone, especially that woman, in their _place._ Middle-Earth owes me some hefty compensation for everything I'm going through. I suppose it'll be something to make Legolas start feeling sorry for me, anyway, though it's not what I would have picked. I can see it now.

LEGOLAS: Why dost thou weep, my Lady? A face as beautiful as thine should not be stained with tears.

ME: Alas, my Prince, I weep because this is not the place I was meant to be; I do not fit in. Everybody here believes me to be stupid and incapable of performing even the simplest tasks.

LEGOLAS: Oh, how awful for you, Milady! Please, let me take you away from here. We can go to my father's kingdom in Mirkwood, where thou needst never perform menial labor again.

ME: Oh, thank you, my Prince, but thou dost need not call me Lady, for I am none.

LEGOLAS: As you wish, then, melamin... _(That's Elvish for "my love," right?)_ ...and thou mayest call me Legolas.

ME_(with just the right amount of shyness)_: As you wish... Legolas.

LEGOLAS: Just offhand, why didst they think thou stupid and incapable of performing even the simplest tasks?

ME: Um, because it was true...?

Oh, yeah. Real perfect.

**Fifth Entry**

Oh boy... new day. I'm less sore, but not by much. I didn't get enough sleep. Stupid rich Stewards, making their servants get up all _early_ just so that they can wake up with their precious little fires already lit. Who do they think we are, their mothers? I don't have much time to write. Sigyn's trying to tell me to prepare a shaving basin for Prince Imrahil. I'm pretending not to understand. Stupid Prince Imrahil. Why can't I be the servant of a bunch of royal elves? _They_ don't have to shave. Sigyn's getting annoyed. I suppose I should stop pretending not to understand if I actually want to convince her that I'm not really that stupid, but then I'd have to go and wait on the stupid human Prince. Uh-oh. I think Sigyn's seeing through it. She's trying to take away my inkwell. I'll be back later.

Said Stupid Human Prince was already awake when I brought his shaving things. I just tried to avoid catching his eye as I set it on the table and ran out the door- I was probably late for a million other things I had to do and I didn't want to get slapped again. Maybe I can file an abuse case if I am. Well, I tried to run out the door, anyway. Faramir was just running in to see S.H.P., who happens to be his uncle. So I try to avoid tripping over him, and manage to succeed against all odds. Well, I fell over, but it wasn't on top of Faramir, so there. Of course S.H.P. is all concerned about Little Stewardling, not the half-witted servant girl who just sacrificed her ankle to save him. And then of _course_ Boromir has to be then next one into the room, and is all worried that Faramir might have gotten a microscopic bruise. He's _fine,_ people. _I'm _the one on the floor clutching her leg and going "ow" here! And then Faramy's the one to turn to me and apologize all prettily. Stupid Little Stewardling. I tried to smile valiantly. There, Valor, that ought to be a couple points in my favor, feel like sending Leggy my way now? Boromir helped me up. Well, when I say "helped me up" I mean that he held out his hand and I took it, expecting to just sit up and then see if my ankle could bear any weight, but he just hauls me to my feet in one motion like I'm a feather. Or maybe a practice sword, for him. I hissed a few curses, but restrained myself to the English ones. Swearing in front of royalty in a language that they can understand is generally Not A Good Idea. Boromir introduced me then to S.H.P., and I think I caught the words for "teach" and "sword." S.H.P. smiled. _He better not be laughing at me, or I'll bring him a rusty razor tomorrow,_ I thought to myself. I curtsied anyway, since he _is_ a prince. I'm still not really good at this "curtseying" stuff, and what with my ankle being all messed up, I nearly fell over again. S.H.P. said something else to Boromir, and Boromir laughed. I don't think he's so nice anymore. Maybe I can't understand their stupid Westron. And maybe they believe that I couldn't understand what they were saying even if I did. But that doesn't give them the right to laugh at my clumsiness when I'd never held a sword before in my life (the little incident at the smithy didn't count) and had just hurt my ankle to protect their darling Faramir. I wanted to stomp my foot at them, but that would have been rather counter-productive, so I just clenched my fists and left before they could see that I was crying again. I need to stop crying all the time. Tears get more pity when you cry less often. S.H.P. definitely gets a rusty razor tomorrow.

**Sixth Entry**

Couldn't find a rusty razor. Aren't there any lazy servants here?

**Seventh Entry**

Sorry for the one-liner yesterday, but that was pretty much all that happened. Went around, did my chores, I'm not too sore anymore and my ankle felt fine after I walked on it for a while, so I guess it wasn't really broken. I tried to comb my hair today with a comb that I "borrowed" from one of the other servants. It was really a disaster. I haven't spent much time looking at myself in a mirror lately- I've been too busy to do anything but work, eat, and sleep- but I caught a glimpse of myself in Prince Imrahil's shaving mirror and nearly started crying again. I'm not sure which I miss more, my family or good hygiene. I will _never_ get used to the lack of hygiene. My hair was as greasy as Aragorn's- I'd always been so disgusted with him!- and so knotted that I broke two teeth off the comb before just giving up. Water and laundry soap didn't help it, either. How long has it been since I had a real bath? What's going to happen if I get a cavity here? I've been rinsing my mouth out with water every night, but there's no fluorine in sight. I nearly had a fit when Sigyn showed me what women do at That Time Of The Month. I felt like I was wearing diapers. As for actually having to _wash_ them... eurgh. Don't even get me started. And I have two dresses to my name. When I first got here I tried to wash the one I wasn't wearing every day, so that I'd always have clean clothes, but that really was too much trouble. So now I rarely have clean clothes to wear. I hate these dresses, anyway. I wish they'd let women wear pants. Of course, a lot of the men here wear skirts or dresses too, but most of the time they wear pants underneath them.

I don't really feel like writing much today. I feel incredibly gross. I used to have such nice hair! Stupid mirror. I'm going to break it tomorrow. S.H.P. will just have to shave without one. I think that's a better idea than the rusty razor, anyway, this way he will have no mirror and a _sharp_ razor. Nice and sharp.

**Eighth Entry**

They apparently have spare mirrors here. Damn.

I'm being forced to forgo dinner, so I guess I'll just write here some more. It has been a fairly eventful morning, I suppose. I wasn't too impeccable in my timing, and happened to break the mirror when that evil higher-up servant lady was going by. She started towards me, and I just ran away as fast as I could. I fell partway down the stairs, tore my dress, and kept running. This time I cursed in English, Westron, _and _German. I got terribly lost- apparently there are still areas of this castle that I don't know- and so I just wandered around for a while. Eventually I ended up outside, and it happened to be where Boromir was being instructed in riding. I stayed and watched for a while. The kid looked like he'd been born in the saddle. I had always liked horses, but I never took lessons or anything. I doubt I would have been any good. My little sister was. Is. But she rides English, with the funny black velvet-covered hats and all. And I don't think that she could ever manage riding a horse and swinging a sword around at the same time. Boromir could, though. His instructor didn't agree- wouldn't stop yelling. I felt sorry for Boromir, but he just looked determined and worked harder. Faramir came along and saw me watching. He tried to talk to me a bit, but I couldn't understand a word. Nod and smile, that's how things go here. He gave up and we just watched his brother. After I was sure that either Boromir, the instructor, or the horse should have keeled over long ago, they finished, and it was Faramir's turn. He had it easier, though. Just horseback riding without the sword-fighting. I was determined to ignore Boromir after he'd laughed at me the other day, but he asked me to help him unsaddle and groom his horse, and, well, it just reminded me too much of my sister for me to say no. So I helped him. I know how to brush a horse and all, so we bedded it down in its stall together. Then Boromir showed me the rest of the stables. There was a little bay filly that was, he managed to communicate, his to raise and train.

"What's her name?" I asked him. He just sort of blinked. I pointed to him, saying "Boromir," and then to the filly, saying "name?", making sure that I sounded questioning.

"Ascar," he answered, slightly sheepishly. I guess she was named after someone, but I never heard the name. Maybe she was going to be in the Extended Edition DVD of the third movie. I said the words that he had used to mean "good job" during the sword-fighting lesson the other day, hoping that he'd understand that I thought it was a pretty name. Ascar nuzzled his pockets, searching for treats. Grinning, he rubbed her face and murmured softly. I could have sworn she whickered back. Smart filly. A realization hit me- she would eventually be his war-horse. I stared at the pair of them, a seventeen-year-old boy pulling an apple from his tunic pocket and his filly delicately taking it from his hand, and tried to imagine them charging thousands of orcs, perhaps leading thousands of men, all roaring "For Gondor!" Boromir found another apple in his pocket and handed it to me. I passed it to Ascar and went back to watching horse and boy interact. They looked like something Norman Rockwell would paint, some cheesy painting my great-aunt would buy and hang above her mantel and get all nostalgic about. She'd sigh and say that she wished she could be a painting, and stay in one happy moment forever, and then she'd start quoting from some poet named Keats. My sister and I would always exchange looks whenever she started going on like that, looks that meant "Isn't she crazy? I hope I never get old and crazy like that!" But... right then I wished with all my heart that I could freeze Boromir and Ascar on a canvas and lock them behind the glass of a picture frame. Right then, in that perfectly contented moment, forever. Because I knew what would happen. I thought about the orcs overrunning Osgiliath, then the siege of Minas Tirith itself, the masonry crumbling and soldiers dying. I heard an older, harder Boromir cry out, "By the blood of _our people_ are your lands kept safe!" I heard a despondent Boromir, voice trembling, confess to Aragorn, "It is long since we had any hope." In a flash I knew what Great-Aunt Marilyn and Keats had meant. Trapped forever in a moment, never to grow, never to change, but never to know despair. And then it was gone, and Boromir was looking at me funny because I was staring. I blinked and tried to laugh, looking around with a vacant expression to say "sorry, I was spacing." He gave Ascar one more pat on the neck, then turned to me and asked if I wanted to continue the sword-fighting lessons. I hesitated, remembering how hard it had been last time, but I _did_ want to learn. And I doubted that anyone other than he would be able or willing to teach me, so… back to the practice swords and sore muscles. He had to spend most of the time correcting my grip again. When Faramir finished his riding lesson, the two of them left, and I decided that I really wasn't going to just stay and sleep in the courtyard that night. By the time I found my way back, though, lunch was all gone, and the evil higher-up servant lady decreed that I couldn't eat dinner either. So I've brought myself to now. Hungry. Really really hungry. I'm going to be chewing off my own arm any minute now.

Sigyn snuck me some leftovers. I guess I do sort of have friends here, even if one is only being nice because she thinks that I can't understand why I'm being punished and feels sorry for me, and the other can cement knowledge more clearly in his mind if he teaches it to someone else. Well, he's already teaching Faramir, but he has to keep going over the basics with me. Basics, basics, basics. I ought to start teaching him Calculus so that I don't forget it. Or English. I had better not forget how to speak English. At this rate I'll never forget how to write it, even if it does mean that I have to spend most of my wages on quills and ink and parchment. One nice thing about knowing a language that nobody else does, I know for sure that nobody can ever read this. I really think that the negatives outweigh the positives, though, in this case. Communication. It's a useful thing. I guess I should start actively learning Westron, if I want to be able to talk to Legolas. Learning Elvish would be nicer, but this way, I figure I can ask him to teach me Elvish and then he has to spend the time with me.

**Ninth Entry**

I haven't written in a while. I've been really busy lately, and am also running through ink like it's water. Parchment is expensive stuff. I wish I knew how to make paper from wood pulp so I could make my own, but I think you really need modern technology for that. I'm wasting it all on my Westron notes. Sigyn thinks I'm crazy (well, more than usual) for writing everything down. Kids here just learn by memorization. She's been patient, though, and just keeps making me repeat word after word after word. Sword lessons are continuing with Boromir, too, and he's happy that I'm trying to learn how to talk. So I'm mainly learning words like "parry" or phrases like "I'm sorry I broke the (noun), I didn't do it on purpose." I had to use that on the person whose comb I borrowed the other day.

**Tenth Entry**

Boromir was actually really pleased with my progress today. I wonder if he still thinks I'm a halfwit? He isn't as condescending as he was before. He said "good job" like he meant it, not like "I have to tell you that you're doing well or you're going to get discouraged." So, terribly sore muscles or not, I was really happy, and flew through the rest of my chores fairly singing to myself. (I saw him teaching Faramir later. Little Stewardling's still the prodigy around here. But he's been at this all his life, so I guess I'm sorta justified.) When I came back to our room for my Westron lesson with Sigyn, though, she cancelled it. Meeting a guy somewhere. How do the other servants have time for things like _social lives?_ I can barely make time for lessons in sword-fighting and speaking the Common Tongue. Wish I had a social life. Most of the other servants didn't even bother to learn my name, they just call me "you" or "halfwit." Sigyn was embarrassed when I asked her what the epithet meant and she had to tell me by sign language that the word I'd assumed was merely a name was actually an insult to my intelligence.

Wow. Okay, it's just about dawn and I'm not going to bother going back to bed. Poor Sigyn. She came back in and went straight to bed, and as soon as she thought I was asleep, she started crying. I'm not really clear on the details- my Westron knowledge does not extend to words like "boyfriend" or whatever, and Sigyn was far from coherent anyway. But as far as I can figure, her date did not go well. So most of the night I stayed up comforting her as best I could. I've done it before back home- you find her something good to eat, then you hug her and let her rant and cry and tell her what a wonderful person she is and how much better she can do than whoever he was and generally bash all men. Not speaking the language hinders a bit of that, but I found her some bread and cheese and hugged her and let her rant and cry and made comforting noises and used sword-fighting words once I'd figured out his name. I also picked up several new Westron curses, which I wrote down on my vocabulary sheets as soon as she fell asleep. Weren't ancient women supposed to be all proper and innocent and stuff? Sigyn has a mouth like a sailor. I can tell by the shocked looks she occasionally gets whenever she drops something or whatever and starts yelling. I think she'll be okay, though, Sigyn never struck me as the sort of girl who is really dependent on having a boyfriend. She's more the type to get angry than to get all depressed. I've never seen her mope around- when she's in a bad mood, she runs around being extra-productive, as if all dirt was a personal affront or something. Yeah, it's just about time to go and get started on chores. I don't think I'm going to wake Sigyn up just yet, though. I can do most of hers as well as mine, for the morning at least; she needs her sleep.

**Eleventh Entry**

No long entry tonight. No time at all. I just have to keep reminding myself how nice Sigyn has been to me ever since I arrived, how many times she's had to make up for my shortcomings and been so patient explaining to me how things are done here. It's late afternoon and I still haven't the heart to wake her up. Goodbye, more chores to do.

**Twelfth Entry**

I had to miss my sword-fighting lesson with Boromir yesterday, because of the extra chores. I tell you, if I had to do that much work every day I would simply keel over and die. Sigyn's feeling a lot better today, though. She was really surprised that I'd voluntarily taken on extra work, but she _is_ my friend, I guess. It's nice to have a friend. It's also nice to know that I did something helpful to someone else for once. I've had to ask for help from everybody since I got here in just about everything, and finally I get to do something in return. I'm going to go see if I can find Boromir now, and apologize for not being there.

Couldn't find Boromir. He's sitting in on some council or other. He's Steward-in-Training or whatever they call him, so he has to learn how these things work. He's really busy, isn't he? I'm very glad that he takes the time for my sword-fighting lessons, though. It's one of the highlights of my day. Of course, the rest of my day is taken up by chores, so I guess that doesn't say much. But whatever. He's a really cool guy. I mean, in the movie he attacks Frodo to get the Ring and everything, but I just can't see the same evil in Boromir the actual person. Actually, I don't think I've seen him do anything evil. He got in a fight with some other boys once, and won quite decidedly, but that was after they'd pushed Faramir into a midden heap and called him some of the names I heard Sigyn call the cat when it knocked over a crock of rare herbs belonging to the healers and ruined them. Always looking out for Faramir, he is. Whatever happened to their mother, anyway? I've never seen her, and she wasn't in the movie either. Maybe she's dead. I wonder how my family is doing. It just occurred to me that they could die and I'd never know. I wonder if they think I'm dead. I remember how scared my mom was when my little sister fell off a horse. She was fine, just a little bruised, but Mom screamed and ran over faster than I'd ever seen her move. I thought of when Gandolf and the Rohan king are standing by the grave and the Rohan king weeps and says "No parent should have to bury their child." Now I'm feeling really guilty. Maybe I shouldn't have wished to come here. At the very least I should have told my family not to worry.

I'm crying now. I need to stop crying all the time.

If I'd been less of a thoughtless bitch and talked to them before I left, I would have said that I'd be just fine, not to worry, everything was going to be okay. And back then, I would have defined "okay" as going to find Legolas and playing a big part in the story and being able to do all sorts of things, like fight and cast a few magic spells and _speak the damn language_. It sounds so ridiculous now.

But I still think I'm going to be okay. I've gotten a lot better at my chores, so I don't think that they'll fire me. And I think that Sigyn and I can look after each other. Boromir's helping me out, too. Once I learn some more Westron, I think we could be friends. I know that the good guys win at the end, and that Gondor gets restored. Now that I think about it, I have a lot more than a lot of people can say. Yeah. I think I'll be okay. Just need to stop crying all the time, and then I'll really be okay.


End file.
